Iago.
Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.

Rod.
Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.

Iago.
Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand^{8 note}. [Retires to a little distance.

Rod.
I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons.—
'Tis but a man gone:—forth, my sword; he dies. [Goes to his stand.

Iago.
I have rubb'd this young quat^{9 note} almost to the sense,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my game^{1 note}: live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona;
It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him: there stand I in much peril.
No, he must die:—be't so; I hear him coming^{2 note}. Enter Cassio.

Rod.
I know his gait; 'tis he.—Villain, thou diest. [Rushing out, and making a pass at Cassio.

Cas.
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st:
I will make proof of thine. [Draws, and wounds Roderigo.

Rod.
O! I am slain. [Iago rushes from his post, cuts Cassio behind in the Leg, and exit.

Cas.
I am maim'd for ever.—Light, ho^{3 note}! murder! murder! [Falls. Enter Othello, at a distance.

Oth.
The voice of Cassio.—Iago keeps his word.

Rod.
O, villain that I am!

Oth.
It is e'en so.

Cas.
O, help! ho! light! a surgeon!

Oth.
'Tis he.—O brave Iago! honest, and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong;
Thou teachest me.—Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies^{4 note}:—strumpet, I come!
Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted. [Exit Othello. Enter Lodovico and Gratiano, at a distance.

Cas.
What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!

Gra.
'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.

Cas.
O, help!

Lod.
Hark!

Rod.
O wretched villain!

Lod.
Two or three groan.—It is a heavy night^{5 note}:
These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe
To come in to the cry without more help.

Rod.
No body come? then shall I bleed to death. Enter Iago, with a Light.

Lod.
Hark!

Gra.
Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

Iago.
Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries on murder?

Lod.
We do not know.

Iago.
Did not you hear a cry?

Cas.
Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me.

Iago.
What's the matter?

Gra.
This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.

Lod.
The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.

Iago.
What are you here, that cry so grievously?

Cas.
Iago? O! I am spoil'd; undone by villains:
Give me some help.

Iago.
O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?

Cas.
I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.

Iago.
O treacherous villains!—
What are you there? come in, and give some help. [To Lodovico and Gratiano.

Rod.
O, help me! here.

Cas.
That's one of them.

Iago.
O murderous slave! O villain! [Iago stabs Roderigo.

Rod.
O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog^{6 note}!—

Iago.
Kill men i'the dark!—Where be these bloody thieves?—
How silent is this town!—Ho! murder! murder!
What may you be? are you of good, or evil?

Lod.
As you shall prove us, praise us.

Iago.
Signior Lodovico?

Lod.
He, sir.

Iago.
I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.

Gra.
Cassio?

Iago.
How is it, brother?

Cas.
My leg is cut in two.

Iago.
Marry, heaven forbid!—
Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

Enter Bianca.

Bian.
What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry'd?

Iago.
Who is't that cry'd!

Bian.
O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio!
O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

Iago.
O notable strumpet!—Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?

Cas.
No.

Gra.
I am sorry, to find you thus: I have been to seek you.

Iago.
Lend me a garter:—so.—O, for a chair,
To bear him easily hence^{7 note}!

Bian.
Alas! he faints.—O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio!

Iago.
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury^{8 note}.—
Patience a while, good Cassio.—Come, come.
Lend me a light.—Know we this face, or no?
Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman,
Roderigo? no:—yes, sure. O heaven! Roderigo.

Gra.
What, of Venice?

Iago.
Even he, sir; did you know him?

Gra.
Know him? ay.

Iago.
Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon:
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.

Gra.
I am glad to see you.

Iago.
How do you, Cassio?—O, a chair, a chair!

Gra.
Roderigo!

Iago.
He, he, 'tis he.—O! that's well said^{9 note};—the chair.— [A Chair brought in.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;

I'll fetch the general's surgeon.—For you, mistress, [To Bianca.
Save you your labour.—He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

Cas.
None in the world; nor do I know the man.

Iago.
What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o' the air.— [Cassio and Rod. are borne off.
Stay you, good gentlemen^{1 note}.—Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?—
Nay, an you stir^{2 note}:—we shall hear more anon.—
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use. Enter Emilia.

Emil.
Alas! what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?

Iago.
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap'd:
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil.
Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!

Iago.
This is the fruit of whoring.—Pr'ythee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.—
What! do you shake at that?

Bian.
He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

Iago.
O! did he so? I charge you, go with me.

Emil.
O, fie upon thee, strumpet!

Bian.
I am no strumpet; but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.

Emil.
As I? fie upon thee!

Iago.
Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.—
Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.—

Emilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.—
Will you go on, I pray?—This is the night, [Aside.
That either makes me, or fordoes me quite. [Exeunt.

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